


The Sweet Recess of Eve

by animalwild084



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Gen, Introspection, M/M, One Shot, Pining, References to Paradise Lost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:49:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21559615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animalwild084/pseuds/animalwild084
Summary: Peter is enthralled. Captivated. His mind arrested and what’s left of his soul filled with unnamed bliss.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 2
Kudos: 61





	The Sweet Recess of Eve

**Author's Note:**

> I'm taking a class where we're analyzing Paradise Lost, and there's one bit where Satan first sees Eve and is totally divorced from any and all evil within him. And Teen Wolf owns my soul so obviously my first thought was of steter XD  
> This is my first (and probably my only) teen wolf fic so enjoy!
> 
> many thanks to Kr15xxx for giving this a quick read through ^.^  
> let me know if I'm missing any tags!

_...the sweet recess of Eve_  
_Thus earlie, thus alone; her Heav’nly forme_  
_Angelic, but more soft, and Feminine,_  
_Her graceful Innocence, her every Aire_  
_Of gesture or least action overawd_  
_His Malice, and with rapine sweet bereav’d_  
_His fierceness of the fierce intent it brought:_  
_That space the Evil once abstracted stood_  
_From his own evil, and for the time remaind_  
_Stupidly good, of enmitie disarmed,_  
_Of guile, of hate, of envie, of revenge_

Peter strolls around the bend, and the sight that greets him stops him in his tracks, half-hidden in shadow and shade from the trees above him.

It is almost impossible to picture Stiles in nature sometimes, as he so often surrounds himself with screens. But that’s the image that greets Peter.

Stiles is crouched by the riverbank, where the pack is meeting today to discuss and walk boundary lines. He’s as still as Stiles gets; arms wrapped around his legs as he sways from heels to toes, his gaze stuck on the water. His eyes follow the various waves and ripples in the water, face tilting just so and his eyes catching the sunlight. Stiles tilts his head, his neck stretching, showing his jaw in sharp contrast and placing his moles on display. Peter traces the dots, gaze fixed, lost in wonder.

Peter is enthralled. Captivated. His mind arrested and what’s left of his soul filled with unnamed bliss. 

Peter’s never particularly _looked_ at Stiles before. A few glances made here and there, but those have been more of an appreciation for Stiles’ _potential_ than any superficial coverings.

The beauty in Stiles is something Peter has honestly never encountered or considered before, and while those thoughts surprise him, he sees no way around them. They’re stuck in his brain and he can’t ignore the picture of Stiles, almost serene, among the trees.

Peter inhales, his chest expanding while simultaneously feeling too tight.

Stiles moves, his arm slowly unfolding to dip his fingers into the water. Peter feels his own fingers twitch.

_But the hot of Hell that alwayes in him burnes,_  
_Though in mid Heav’n, soon ended his delight,_  
_And tortures him now more._  
_-Book 9, Paradise Lost by John Milton_


End file.
